Page 78 of Bedeviled

“If I get pregnant, you’re the one staying home with the baby.”

He laughs. “Est amage, I will give up my whole damn empire if you ask for it. And if you give us a child, our child”—his voice goes hoarse—“I will give them the world too.”

My heart still pounds recklessly fast. “What exactly would be the terms of the deal?” I ask.

“No more birth control.”

That would take condoms off the table, leaving me only oral, anal, hand jobs, and pulling out early. It takes an infinitesimal leap of logic to grasp that Memnon would absolutely be willing to edge me until I let him come inside me.

The thought has my nipples tightening.

Obviously, I should not agree to this.

But the way Memnon is looking at me, with those jeweled eyes and that cruel, curved scar, and the memories of how intensely he loved his family and how viciously he protected them…it’s all affecting me. I feel the echoes of my own buried longing.

“Would you want to make an unbreakable vow?” I ask, watching him carefully.

He gives a hollow laugh. “Because the last unbreakable vow worked out so well for us.” Memnon’s eyes flit over me. “No, I trust you,” he says, weaponizing those words the same way I did. “Besides,” he adds, “I rather enjoy the thought of you sneaking contraceptives. But I retain the right to throw them away if I find them.”

It’s an out, one my strategic husband is all but handing over to me. I can make another amulet, but he might lift the magic from it.

This is a reckless trade, I know, but I’m not terribly worried about getting pregnant either. Last month we had lots of sex and essentially no birth control, and we were fine. And I know from the deep past, infertility was our struggle. So I’m not that worried—especially not when I’m already making plans to have my wedding ring spelled with another contraceptive charm back at Henbane’s apothecary.

It’ll be fine.

I draw in a deep breath. “It’s a deal.”

Memnon’s eyes gleam as he takes me in. I can sense his churning emotions, but mostly, I sense exultation from him. He thinks he got the better end of the deal.

He probably has. I’m just annoyingly determined to get my tattoo.

“Alright, est amage. It’s a deal.”

Stepping deeper into my space, he reaches out once more and loops a hand around my necklace, the moon-faced amulet dangling from the end of it. Giving it a swift tug, the ribbon snaps.

He tosses the necklace aside, his expression pleased and a smidge victorious.

“When do you want me to begin the tattoo?” Memnon asks.

“Right now.”

A little bit of that self-satisfied pleasure falls from his face.

Memnon sighs. “I’m going to need that blunt.”

CHAPTER 18

I lie before a roaring fire in the hearth, naked down to my waist, pillows propping up my back. A nearby bowl of cannabis burns, its pungent odor hanging in the air. I reach for my glass of spiced wine, bringing it to my lips. Already I’ve downed two prior glasses of it, and the world has taken on a hazy, glorious glow.

On my chest is a sketch of Memnon’s clan mark, the dragon, drawn in red. Memnon ended up doing it, and he definitely undersold his artistic abilities. The creature looks exactly as I remember it. But even if it didn’t, I would still be pleased. It was more important to me that a Sarmatian give me the tattoo than it was to receive a pristine replica of the image.

Memnon withdraws the needle from where he heats it in the flame. Then, dipping it into the bowl of charcoal, he brings it over my heart. His hand is steady as it hovers there, above me, but he doesn’t lower it.

The fire dances in his eyes as he stares down at me, and it reminds me of other times and places where we gazed at each other by firelight. In many ways, this is how I will always remember him, his hair loose, the shadows curving over the contours of his face, his presence romanticized by the dim, dancing light.

Right now, however, his brow is furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”